Trouble (8 page)

“I know I am. Too good. And Jordan, the tourist is a girl. And she’s pretty, real pretty. So just try to keep it in your pants, okay? Your dad needs the business, and screwing the guests, then screwing them over, just doesn’t bode well with that.”

“Jesus, Beth! One time. One fuckin’ time it happened! And she never told me she was married.”

“One!” She laughs. “Angry husband’s aside, I can count off the top of my head at least ten women you’ve had hissing at you this past year, and it’s only July.”

“Ten? Come on that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

She laughs, once. “I was being kind with that figure.”

I do quick math in my head.

Okay, maybe she’s right.

“Whatever,” I mutter. “I’m actually a little insulted you think women leave here with not one good word to say after a ride from Jordan Matthews.”

“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person, it freaks me out when you do that. And yes, once you stick your dick in a woman it doesn’t end in a song of happiness. You’re awesome at the wooing. Just not the ending.”

“I don’t woo. We’re not in the nineteenth century. I fuck. And I’m awesome at it. Hence why women keep coming back for more. And can you stop talking about my dick? You’re actually starting to turn me on, and that’s freaking
me
out.”

“Ugh, god! Okay, we’ll end the conversation here. Just leave the pretty tourist alone.”

“You seem overly pushy on this one. Are you warning me off for another reason? Maybe because you want her for yourself?”

“Jordan Matthews!” she scolds, making me laugh. “One, she’s not into girls. I could tell. And two, she’s
too
pretty if you know what I mean.”

“No. I really don’t,” I deadpan. “There’s no such thing as too pretty.”

“Yes, there is. There’s the kind of pretty that comes with a warning label. This girl is trouble. Look, I have to go. The diner’s busy, and Mom is shooting me daggers from up front. Just be good, for me. And if not for me, your dad. He could really do without the hassle after everything that’s happened.”

My back stiffens.

Her stark reminder is like a sharp slap in the face. Probably one I needed.

“You’re not saying anything … did I overstep the mark?” she says softly.

“No.” I sigh. “You said what I needed to hear. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“I’m only looking out for you because I love you, you know that.”

“I know. And you’re the only woman who can say that to me without sending me running.”

“That’s because I haven’t slept with you.”

“And that is because you, Beth Turner, are one smart girl.”

“Yeah. That, and the fact I’m a lesbian.”

I chuckle. “Well, yeah. That too.”

***

Fifteen minutes later, I hear a car pulling up the drive. It’ll be the hot tourist.

I’m going to show Beth that I’m completely capable of keeping myself in check around a pretty girl.

I am not ruled by my dick.

And anyway, just because Beth thinks she’s pretty doesn’t mean I will.

She could be fuck ugly. Or at the very least, a butter face.

Nah. Who am I kidding? If Beth thinks she’s pretty, then I definitely will. We have the same taste in women.

A few minutes later, I hear the bell ring on the main door.

Showtime.

I haul my ass out of the chair and start to make my way upstairs. As I’m climbing, I hear her voice call out.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

“Jeez, give me a minute,” I mutter.

I take the rest of the stairs two at a time, quickly moving through the office, out to the reception desk, and…

Fuck me.

Fucking. Fuck. Fuck.

The
hottest
chick I have ever seen in my life is standing before me.

The.

Hottest.

Ever.

Beth calling her pretty was an understatement. A massive understatement.

She’s stunning.

And I’m so completely screwed.

It’s weird though because I usually go for tall girls. I like long legs, but this girl is tiny. I’d give her five-three max. At six-two, I’m almost a whole foot taller than her. And her tits are smaller than I usually prefer.

Her hair is blonde and short. Pixie cut. She kind of looks like Tinker Bell. I usually dig long hair on chicks; something to wrap my hand around while I fuck them.

But this girl, who is pretty much the opposite of everything I usually go for, has made my dick as hard as stone just by looking at her.

Never. Happened. Before.

I usually need them to be naked, or to at least have a little hands on action first.

She’s like the world’s best visual hand job.

Seriously, I think if she just lays a finger on me I’ll jizz my pants, and that hasn’t happened since seventh grade when I was with Katie Harris in the sports closet. Two tugs and I was done. Not one of my finer moments, but in my defense, Katie was the first girl to touch my cock.

I’m just thanking my good luck right now that this reception desk is high enough to hide the massive boner I’m sporting.

“Hello,” she says. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips.

Jesus, she has the sweetest looking mouth. The kind of cherry red lips you want to suck on. The kind of lips I want to see sucking me off.

I only wish I could see her eyes. Eyes are my other thing aside from legs. I like them big, but she’s wearing huge ass sunglasses. I hate it when women do that. It’s sunny, you wear sunglasses. Not at eight in the goddamn evening.

Realizing I haven’t spoken a word in reply, and have done nothing but stare at this girl for an insane amount of time, I find my voice and ask, “How can I help?”

There are a few different ways she could answer that question. One involves her telling me to bend her over this reception desk and…

“I, uh, need a room.”

Jesus, her voice is as sweet as light molasses.

My dick twitches, pulsing hard against my, now, incredibly tight jeans.

I need this hard on to disappear.

I can do this. My dick does not rule me. I’m in control here.

Think of being some chick’s boyfriend, Matthews. The stage five clinger from earlier…

And there you go. Down boy.

Hot girl steps close to the counter and sets her bags to the floor.

She smells good. Like a mixture of vanilla and expensive perfume.

I want to lean in close and inhale.

And possibly lick her.

She moistens her lips again before speaking. It’s really distracting. “Beth, the girl at the diner in town? She sent me here. Said you’d have a room available.”

I pull my eyes from her lips and stare into those ugly ass sunglasses. All I get is my own reflection back. Which is not a bad thing, I just really want to see her without them on.

I wonder if she’d be offended if I reached over and pulled them off?

Clearing my head and throat, I say, “We do. How long do want to stay for?”

“Um.” She tilts her chin down and shifts on her feet. “I’m not sure … two weeks?”

Two weeks. This is just the kind of money we could do with right now. If I can keep my hands off her that is.

“Are you asking or telling me?”

Wow, I sounded like a complete asshole then.

She looks uncomfortable.

And I feel like shit.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Her hand reaches up and starts to pull on her lower lip – it’s actually kind of hot watching her tug on that lip. It’s definitely turning me on again. Okay, so
again
is probably the wrong word since I haven’t been ‘off’ since I laid eyes on her.

Letting go of the lip that I most certainly want to suck on, she folds her arms. “I want to stay for two weeks, and I’m asking if you have a room available for that long?”

Forcing my eyes from her, I look down at the booking sheet.

Like I have to check. Of course I have a room free for two weeks. We don’t have another booking coming until next week, and that’s the Perry’s who stay every year for their anniversary. I just needed a reprieve before I do something stupid, like hit on her.

God, I want to hit on her. So bad.

Clear your head, Matthews. No hitting on the hot tourist.

You can do this.

Right. I’ll put her in Lakeview. It’s the most expensive room we have. And the nicest. The kind of room a girl like her should stay in.

And judging from the flashy Mercedes I can see parked outside, I’m guessing she can more than afford it.

Also, it’s the one room I haven’t had sex in. Not that it matters in regards to her, but Mom and Dad spent their first night as a married couple in Lakeview. That’s why I steer clear of it.

“We do,” I say. “It’s one hundred and seventy five a night.”

“That’s fine,” she replies. She doesn’t even blink.

Like I thought. Loaded. I wonder if it’s Daddy’s money, or maybe she has a husband?

She doesn’t look old enough to be married, but who knows the ages of women nowadays. Earlier this year, I banged a chick who looked twenty, but she was thirty. The marvels of plastic surgery.

I give a quick check to her ring finger. Empty.

Picking up a pen, I mark out the week. I pull out a booking form from the drawer for her to fill out her details, then slide it across the counter to her, putting the pen I was just using beside it.

“Fill this out with your name and home address.”

She picks the pen up. I notice her hand is trembling. Odd. Is she nervous, or afraid?

Not a damn reason she would have to be afraid, so I’m betting on nervous.

Now why would a hot girl like her be nervous around me? Only one reason. She wants a piece. They always do.

Hey, I’m not an arrogant ass. I’m just aware of how I look. And most women like how I look. Okay,
all
women like how I look. It’s the hair and tattoos. They like the bad boys, and I’m bad. What can I say?

But this girl is not worldly. I can tell. This one is inexperienced, hence the nerves. Maybe she’s a virgin.

Nah, she can’t be a virgin looking like she does.

She finishes filling out her details and hands the paper back to me. Her fingers brush mine in the exchange. She snatches her hand back like touching me is a big no-no.

Odd. Women usually can’t wait to get their hands on me.

I glance down at her name on the paper in my hand.

Mia Monroe.

Huh. Like Marilyn Monroe, but not.

I didn’t just say that out loud, did I?

I cast a glance at her. She’s staring off toward the living room.

No, don’t think I did. Thank fuck for that.

“I just need your card details and we’re done. Your card won’t be charged until you check out.”

“Okay.” She bends down to her bag. I take the opportunity to lean over the counter and check her ass out.

Nice. Real nice.

I shouldn’t have looked because I’m getting hard again.

She comes back up with her card in hand.

I key the amount in and hand the card device to her.

“Put your card in … and now your PIN.”

I take the device back and wait for it to ring through.

When it’s done, I pull her card from the machine and hand it back to her.

I notice she takes care not to touch me this time.

She shoves the card in her back jean pocket. For a moment, I actually wish I was that card.

I grab the key for Lakeview and step out from behind the counter. “This way.”

She reaches down for her bags and sluggishly lifts them to her shoulder. That’s when I realize how tired she looks.

Here I am checking her out like a total douche, and the girl is exhausted. I feel like a complete tool. My mom raised me better than this.

“Here let me get those for you.” I hold my hand out to take her bags.

She hesitates. Her fingers curl around the handles, gripping them tight to her.

What does she think I’m going to do, run off with her stuff?

Retracting my hand, I scratch my head. “It’s my job to carry your bags. We’re not the kind of establishment that has a bellboy.” I grin so not come off as an asshole. She is a paying guest after all.

Her death grip relaxes and she lifts the bags from her shoulder, placing them in my hand.

“Thank you,” she says in that sweet voice of hers.

She doesn’t talk much, but when she does … it’s
effective
.

Then she smiles.

I called her stunning before. I take it back. With that smile, she’s nothing short of beautiful.

I don’t think I’ve ever referred to a woman as beautiful before. Now, there’s a first.

If she can look this beautiful with those huge hideous sunglasses covering what I imagine is the best part of her face, then I can only imagine how she looks without them.

And how she would look under me.

Naked.

I sling her bags over my shoulder and stride off in the direction of Lakeview.

You can’t have sex with her, Matthews.

My dick, of course, disagrees. Yeah, my dick is absolutely positive that I could screw this chick for two weeks straight and not get bored once.

Who am I kidding? I’d get bored after a week. I lasted that long with Shawna, and she had a huge rack and legs that went on forever.

But even with those assets, she was nowhere near as hot as Mia Monroe.

Hot or not. I don’t have the staying power. And right now, money is more important. And proving a point to Beth, of course.

I come to a stop outside Lakeview. I unlock the door, turn the light on and go inside, setting her bags on the bed.

When I turn back, I see she’s still standing out in the hall.

Everything about her body language screams tense. My eyes flicker to her hands. They’re trembling again.

What is wrong with this girl? I thought it was because she was hot for me, but no, it’s not that. It’s something else.

She wraps her arms around her chest and straightens her back up.

With care, I walk toward her. She steps back to let me pass.

“Your key.” I hold it out to her, leaving a distance between us.

Freeing a hand, she takes it from me.